Sparklers
by Wicked Thorin
Summary: Gandalf gifts Bilbo a set of fireworks with a strange property: they reveal the strongest thoughts, fears, or dreams of your heart. Thorin is not amused.


"Gandalf, these fell from your pack just now," Bilbo said, picking up a thin, rectangular packet. It felt like it contained a bundle of sticks. Bilbo waited patiently for the old wizard to stop arranging his bedroll and turn around, then handed the parcel up to him with a smile. Gandalf's eyebrows rose in delighted surprise.

"Well... I'd thought these lost! Here, my dear Bilbo," he said, opening the top of the package and handing it back to the hobbit.

Bilbo peeked inside, then shook the envelope until the top of the contents slid out a few inches. They did indeed look like a collection of long twigs, or like cattails thinned and elongated. "Are these what I think they are?" Bilbo asked, sliding one completely out.

Gandalf nodded. "Sparklers. 'Morning glories', they are also called. Go, take them to the campfire with you. Out of thirteen dwarves, surely at least one will find some amusement in them."

"Thank you, Gandalf," Bilbo said, unable to keep the pleasure from his voice. It had been so long since he'd seen fireworks of any sort; and while sparklers weren't exactly like the wild conflagrations Gandalf had been known to send soaring into the sky, they were exactly what this long and dour quest needed to -literally- brighten things up.

He turned away, but Gandalf suddenly caught his shoulder. "Be careful with those particular sparklers, my boy."

"Why is that, Gandalf?" he blinked.

"Well... you don't think a great wizard such as myself would be caught with just any old _regular_fireworks, do you?" He drew one out delicately between his grubby nails, and called to life a flame at the end his fingertip. The tip of the stick erupted into silver sparks.

As wizard and hobbit watched, the sparks took shape and soon became a flickering multitude of figures trudging up and down the length of the sparkler. Bilbo squinted, leaning his face closer until an errant spark jumped and twinged the end of his nose. He drew back, rubbing at his face. "Is it...us? Our company?"

"Yes," Gandalf said, his eyes crinkling up with fondness. "These sparklers show what weighs most heavily in your heart, whether for good or ill. From morning to dusk I worry for you all, so the light reveals."

The sparkler burnt itself out, the bright silver figures crackling into smoke.

"Gandalf..."

"Run along, now. And let those with unsure hearts be wary!"

It is very hard to try and think about what you've most been thinking about. For soon your thoughts overlap, and it seems like what you're most thinking about is what it is you are thinking! Bilbo soon had to be quit of that useless cat & mouse chase of thoughts. It was no use. And besides, it wasn't as if he were going to pass up the chance for a light show for fear of what sparkly little secrets it might reveal. He didn't have any particularly bad ones; not that he could tell.

He tried to hand out the sparklers to the other dwarves. A few of them waved him away grumpily, too busy whetting their blades or eating or drinking or snoring loud enough to give away their position to every forest creature within miles.

But Bofur took one, as did Kili and Fili, Ori, Nori, and Bombur. Bifur tried to take one, but Bofur gently pushed his reaching hands away, promising that if he remained calm, he could hold Bofur's sparkler briefly. Best not to expose a man like Bifur to any fireworks, even relatively harmless ones like this.

The dwarves leaned closer to the fire, holding out their sparklers to the flames. Bilbo watched them all curiously, holding his own unlit sparkler to his chest. Kili and Fili sat hip-to-hip with each other, their eyes trained on not only their own firework, but their brother's. Bilbo couldn't stop the smile that crept over his face when a tiny, flaring image of Kili rose up out of Fili's firework, drawing a magnificent bow of golden light and releasing an arrow that flew over the company like a shooting star.

"What a surprise," Bilbo chuckled softly to himself, as out of the waterfall of sparks cascading from Kili's sparkler came the form of Fili, twirling a dagger masterfully in hand and shouting silently at an unseen enemy.

Bilbo's eyes roved around the campfire as magnificent images lit up the entire clearing. Ori went a bit pale-faced at the great dragon that coiled up from his, opening its long, pale snout as if to eat him. Ori might have dropped the firework from fear, but the dragon was hardly taller than an upright pinecone. Nori's sparks became a shower of gold coins, raining down in crisp, perfect discs; Bombur's mirage was a whole roast turkey, dripping with bright sparks of fat. He reached his hand towards the mouth-watering illusion before he could stop himself, then bellowed and dropped the sparkler into the dirt.

Bofur's eyes went wide at whatever his sparks produced, but before Bilbo could make it out, the dwarf gently cupped his gloved hand around the capering light. He even refused Bifur to get close, despite his promise. Bilbo, itching with curiosity, was sneaking his way over to him when a heavy hand touched his shoulder.

"Are princes not allowed such amusements?" Thorin asked.

"Ah, no! I mean yes, of course. I just... I hadn't gotten to you yet, that's all!" Bilbo cheerfully replied, fumbling with the bag of fireworks. He withdrew a sparkler and handed it to Thorin, who studied it curiously, slowly turning it in his fingers as if it would bite him.

"Wait here," Bilbo said. "I'll bring a flame back." He hurried to the fireside and lit his stick, waiting for the telltale burst of silver before jogging back to Thorin's side. "Here," he said, offering the sparking end of the firework. Thorin pushed his silver-black mane behind his shoulder and touched the tip of his sparkler to Bilbo's. Within a moment there was a bright flare, then Bilbo drew his firework away, studying it eagerly.

"Ah, yes... of course. How typically me," he laughed a bit shamefully as Bag End grew up along the length of the stick. He gave a homesick little sigh at the lovely round door and the bountiful garden. He could even see the window he sat beside while studying his maps.

A slight tilt of Thorin's head caught his eye, and he dragged his attention from the illusion of his own firework to that of the Dwarven prince's. Dwarf and Hobbit stared, rather stunned and confused, at the glittering figure of the Hobbit who dangled his legs off the edge of Thorin's sparkler as he smoked his pipe, content as anything.

"Well, erm... that... it's _me_, isn't it?" Bilbo asked, twisting a lock of hair around his finger nervously. His cheeks looked a bit red. "Funny, that."

Thorin closed his large hand over the mass of Bilbo-shaped sparks, crushing it into a cloud of silver smoke that slid out between his knuckles. "I have no time for these games, Bilbo Baggins," he said, turning his back on him and heading to take the first watch among an outcropping of rock.

Gandalf, head bowed and hidden by the brim of his hat, chuckled as the stoic Dwarven prince marched past him, away from the firelight and the laughter and warmth of the rest of the company.

"One day, Thorin Oakenshield... One day, you will _make_time for such silly games."

The dwarf did not hear him, and did not answer.

Deep in the night, Gandalf heard the sound of flint striking a flame. He glanced towards their rocky guard-post and glimpsed the edge of Thorin's face, bathed in flickering silver light.


End file.
